


Adaptably Spooky

by FortySevens



Category: Daredevil (TV), The Punisher (TV 2017)
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Halloween 2020, Holidays, post tps2, quarantine fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-31
Updated: 2020-10-31
Packaged: 2021-03-08 20:41:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,063
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27312793
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FortySevens/pseuds/FortySevens
Summary: Halloween is different this year.Not that Karen’s really celebrated Halloween much over the years—not since she and Kevin were kids, really—but this is going to be the first year in a while that she’s done something for it, and it’s almost funny that it happens to be the year the world is knee deep in a horribly mismanaged pandemic and Halloween isn’t really being celebrated in the traditional sense at all.But the biggest reason why Halloween is different this year, is that Frank Castle is in her apartment.
Relationships: Frank Castle/Karen Page
Comments: 14
Kudos: 58





	Adaptably Spooky

**Author's Note:**

> While I was driving home from the market yesterday, I heard on the radio that someone was planning on doing what I have the Lieberman’s doing in this fic, and this morning I decided I had to write it.
> 
> So, here it is!
> 
> Also, and not that it’s a big part of the story or anything, but this fic disregards anything and everything that happened in the MCU after Captain America: The Winter Soldier, as I also, on a personal level, tend to disregard most of the happenings in the MCU post CA:TWS.

Halloween is different this year.

Not that Karen’s really celebrated Halloween much over the years—not since she and Kevin were kids, really—but this is going to be the first year in a while that she’s done something for it. It’s almost funny that it happens to be the year the world is knee deep in a horribly mismanaged pandemic and Halloween isn’t _really_ being celebrated in the traditional sense at all.

But the biggest reason why Halloween is different this year, is that Frank Castle is in her apartment.

And he’s been here since March, when this whole pandemic began.

It’s almost mind boggling to think about how in the literal years they’ve known each other, the back and forth of “I need your help” and “stay the hell away from me”, they’ve never actually _spent time together_ without that sense of stress and panic and impending doom weighing over them.

Until he showed up on her doorstep in early February, flowers in hand an apology blurted out of his mouth before she could even ask him what he was doing there.

What followed were semi-platonic trips to every crappy diner in and around Hell’s Kitchen, the world’s most awkward acknowledgment of Valentine’s day without actually acknowledging it at all, family dinner at the Lieberman’s—full of not-so-subtle shared glances from every Lieberman except Zach—and then their first kiss, on a quiet Friday night curled up on her couch.

Then, the pandemic happened.

It just made sense for Frank to stay with her, especially when they thought that this was just going to be a strange, few-months-long blip in their lives, and not most of an entire goddamn year.

Better than braving it alone, Karen guesses.

Hell, even Elektra finally came out of the woodwork to keep Matt company throughout all of this—or, well, Matt’s keeping Elektra company, living in her full-service penthouse condo. Foggy’s not exactly thrilled about it, but Marci keeps him distracted by wedding planning and their seemingly never-ending debate about if it’s worth it or not to just elope.

The firm is still trucking along, they’re helping who they can, especially throughout the long summer of protests, but most of the work she, Matt, and Foggy do, is from home.

“You ready to go?”

Frank’s quiet question jolts her from her thoughts as she stares mindlessly out at the city’s blustery gray skies from the window leading out to the fire escape.

She brushes her hands on the pot of roses—not the original pot, those blooms long since dried out and hanging on the wall in her bedroom before she even had a thought about what things would really end up like for them both—and turns, props her back against the wall next to the window, “Yeah,” she nods, glancing down at her bare feet. “You sure they don’t want us to bring anything else?”

Probably the only thing that’s kept her sane during the pandemic—other than having Frank as a near-constant companion—is the opportunity to get out of the city every couple of weeks, since the Lieberman’s invited them into their so-called quarantine bubble.

It’s not perfect—Leo caught a cold a couple months in, and then Karen and Frank both ended up quarantining for four whole weeks in and around the protests that gripped the city in early June, just in case—but it’s better than being forced to stare at the same interior walls of Karen’s apartment for seven whole, miserable months.

Tossing his coat over the back of her couch, Frank goes over to Karen’s tiny kitchen and opens the fridge, “Sarah says they’re set on candy, and they’re ordering in dinner from that place that David found a couple months ago. She just said wine,” he says. “And knowing you both, I picked up a couple bottles.”

As he produces both of said bottles of white wine, three of them, Karen rolls her eyes, pads across the small space so she can curl her arms around Frank’s waist, “You just think you’re hilarious,” she hisses, digging her fingers into Frank’s side as she leans up and presses her mouth to the corner of his.

Frank extricates his arm from between them and curls it over her shoulders, fingertips curling into the skin of her collarbone through her thick sweater, “Yeah, yeah, I’m a goddamn comedian,” he says, turning to press his mouth to hers.

They kiss, standing right in the middle of her kitchen, and Karen never imagined her life got to be like this.

It’s good, it’s really, _really_ good.

As obsessed with being on time as he is, Frank pulls away first, amidst Karen quiet grumble, presses his mouth to the spot between her brows before patting her on the hip, “Come on, we gotta go. More of this later.”

Before she steps away, Karen curls her fingers tighter around the thick sweater he’s wearing and kisses him one more time, quick, “I’m going to hold you to that.”

Frank kisses her again too, and that’s what she loves—that he’s just as invested in this, in them, as she is.

It’s a far cry from any other relationship she’s been in, in her adult life.

But she’s not going to think about that, not today.

—

Driving out of the city doesn’t take nearly as long as it usually would in the early evening, Saturday night or not, and Karen sits in the passenger seat of Frank’s truck, the bottles of wine in a cloth grocery bag at her feet, her hand resting in his on top of the center console.

Restlessness lives inside of every inch of Frank’s body, and he tried to hide it from her, back when they were first starting out, but when you’re living in such close quarters for as long as they have been, it gets harder and harder to hide the little things.

And even though things are calm now, there are parts of Frank’s mind that she knows he can’t just turn off, so she doesn’t say anything as his trigger finger absently strokes back and forth against the side of her index finger as the city melts away to the suburbs where the Lieberman’s live.

Pandemic or no, it looks like everyone on their block decided to decorate, but Karen’s brows hike up to her hairline when she spies something that _definitely_ doesn’t look like a typical Halloween decoration hanging off the front of the Lieberman’s house.

Because there’s a massive, purple and orange-tinsel wrapped PVC pipe hanging out of the house from the open and similarly decorated second-story window. A handmade sign hangs off the bottom of it, attached by what look like oversized fuzzy pipe cleaners, but from their vangtage point, Karen can’t see what’s written on it.

It’s also too damn cold for her to stay out and inspect it, they’ll find out when they get inside anyway.

Sarah opens the door, a cat-ear headband perched on her hair, “Good timing,” she says, and they both can pick up on the fond exasperation in her tone, probably having to do with whatever’s happening upstairs. “Dinner should be here in fifteen minutes.”

Frank kisses Sarah on the cheek and they shift into the entryway, chatter from upstairs filtering down to the front of the house—David upstairs with both Leo and Zach, it sounds like.

“Um,” Karen points upward after Frank helps her out of her coat. “Dare we ask?”

Sarah rolls her eyes, “I’ll let David and the kids explain it to you while I just pray that we’re able to get the duct tape marks of my house when they take it down tomorrow.”

Karen holds up the bag of wine, bottles clinking together from the moment, “Will this help?”

“ _Definitely_.”

—

Glass of wine in hand, Karen follows Frank upstairs, to the small guest room that looks out over the front of the house.

“Hey guys!” David waves from his spot by the window, where it looks like he’s been stripping out layer after layer of duct tape to keep the tube stable.

Karen’s first thought, as she raises the glass in her hand in greeting, is that Sarah is definitely probably going to kill David come tomorrow.

“So, what’s all this?” Frank asks, shoving his free hand into his pocket.

“Socially distanced trick-or-treating!” Leo chirps as she walks over to Frank and wraps her arms around his waist like she does every time she sees him, clad in an Iron Man t-shirt with a sharpie signature from the Avenger himself.

“So the kids in the neighborhood can safely get some candy even though this year has been an actual shitshow,” Zach adds from where he’s perched on the bed in a bright purple Hawkeye t-shirt, opening up the giant bags of candy spread out around him so they’re ready to go.

“ _Language_ , Zach.”

Zach very clearly rolls his eyes, “What? Pete was in the military. I’m sure he’s heard worse than _shitshow_.”

“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean I need to be hearing it from you, kid,” Frank says, reaching across the bed to ruffle his hair.

Karen steps closer to the window so she can inspect the chute, “So, this way neighborhood kids can still feel like they’re getting a real Halloween experience?”

“Exactly,” Leo says. “I drafted up some designs for a catapult we could use from the front door that would have been _super_ awesome and something I could use for my Stark Industries internship application for next summer, but mom said it would probably be a bad idea to shoot candy at little kids.”

“Bad idea, but probably something Stark would be pretty excited about,” Frank says, because it’s not like they didn’t run into each other at one point during the protests earlier this summer.

The way Frank tells it, Stark—Iron Man, really—let him go because keeping the peace amongst the protestors was more important than getting The Punisher off the streets.

Especially since The Punisher was actively _protecting_ the peaceful protestors and keeping any overzealous riot cops accountable.

The height of it was a really rough couple days.

Leo lights up, and Karen lets the memories of the summer fade away, “So I should keep the designs?”

“Absolutely,” she adds. “I interviewed Pepper Potts back when I was still at The Bulletin, and we spent a couple minutes talking about some of the strange pieces of tech she runs into while living with a literal superhero and compulsive inventor. I’ll see if I can get in touch with her and try to put in a good word for you.”

“ _Oh my god thank you_ ,” Leo squeals, almost vaulting across the room to fling her arms around Karen’s waist. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!”

Karen wraps her free arm around Leo, pats her shoulder with the palm of her hand, “Of course. Nothing’s going to stop you from becoming the next Iron Man.”

David groans theatrically, like that’s the absolute worst thing in the world, which they all know is absolute bullshit, because there’s no bigger cheerleader in the world than he is, especially when it comes to Leo and her future.

“Hey look,” Zach pipes up. “Trick or treaters!”

Leo pulls away to rush over to the window, and as the kids take their first test of the candy chute, and Frank sidles up next to her, wraps his arm around her waist. He leans in, brushes his nose against her temple and whispers, “I think you just made her year.”

“Yeah well,” Karen sips at her wine. “At least someone deserves to have this mess of a year end on a higher note.”

Frank squeezes her tighter, “A better year for all of us.”

She shifts, rests her head on his shoulder, “Yeah, I hope so.”

A few minutes later, Sarah calls up from downstairs that dinner arrived, and Zach leads the charge on the way downstairs while Leo and David hang back to finish rigging up an overly complicated—but classic for Lieberman—camera system to alert them of any trick or treaters who may come by while they’re eating.

Frank tangles his hand in hers as they make their way downstairs.

This year might have been a challenge, but—she’s got Frank, and that’s enough to keep her going.


End file.
